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by AlexisGreen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ask and ye shall receive, Hot Sex, M/M, Ownership, Possessive Thorin, hot skin, unapologetic porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen/pseuds/AlexisGreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin asked. Permission was granted.</p>
            </blockquote>





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"Can I have you?" Against his temple the question was whispered and Bilbo wondered just how long had Thorin waited to ambush him, to follow him into deep shadows, to pull their bodies together and breathe each others' breaths. Since Hobbiton and that heart-wrenching song by the fire-side? Maybe since Beorn's house or maybe since that bone-crushing hug and confession on the Carrock?

"Let me have you."

Thorin expected an answer. Of course he did. He wouldn't just take, no, that would make him no better than the lizard that had left its foul stench behind in Erebor. No, Thorin would not trespass. He wouldn't need to. Many thoughts crowded the hobbit's mind just then, declarations and asks and confessions. He would have liked to articulate that him, for one, had been ready since the Shire. But hot breath dampened the curls at the back of his head and travelled sideways to brush over his ear and he just moaned. All thoughts were forgotten but one. "Always. I'm yours."

Permission granted, skilled fingers made scarce work of his coat and waistcoat, garments slipping off to scatter on the floor. His shirt stayed on, halfway unbuttoned, hanging wide off one of his shoulders, making just enough room for Thorin's mouth to assault his neck.

The rock scratched his palms as he propped his hands against the wall for support. He would have gladly had his entire body bruised blue just for this one moment with Thorin. Who knew, he might still see that errant thought come true tonight, if the bite of armour and leather at his back were any indication. "All worth it, all worth it," he whispered as large hands found their way to his skin again, beyond his loosened trousers and smallclothes. With babbled pleas choking his throat, he thrust his cock into Thorin's hand, the tightness of calloused fingers inviting, the light drag of teeth along his shoulders demanding.

"What is," asked Thorin, but Bilbo shook his head, telling him it wasn't of import.

"More, more," he asked, even when the teasing sucks to his neck morphed into aggressive bites, when nails scraped against his hips to leave half-moons behind. He would take anything the would-be king, this king, his king would offer.

Thorin's touches had started out gentle. But dwarves are not known for their gentle nature, Bilbo was quite aware. And why would they be, why would they be soft when the weight of their mountain demanded endurance? What need for care would they have, when rock and iron bowed to strength only?

He braced when his feet were kicked apart, but not for the feel of raspy tongue delving between his cheeks. No, nor for the feel of lips pressing kisses into the hidden shadows of his body was he ready, nor for the wetness that soothed even as the burn of beard scratched his skin. Ah, he'd forgotten that dwarves possessed so much more than pure, brute strength, that there was also deft skill involved in toy-making and in crafting jewelry, and quite possibly many other pursuits, including some very intimate pursuits ones, if Thorin's ability were to be judged. 

Yes, Bilbo wanted more. His body sang into the touches; an arch of back to push into that tongue that sought him out, the broken cries that urged Thorin along, telling him to go on, to take everything, to have the hobbit whole and keep him for an eternity. A finger joined the tongue soon enough and Bilbo's stomach trembled. Anticipation, then relief. Yeah, he would give himself up. A little shiver born of the rush, more than a hint of pain as watery spit did not ease the passage too much, so much more when two fingers were added. Still, Bilbo asked for more, gritted his teeth and asked for more.

The beautiful mouth retreated though, with a light smack of lips on a cheek. The fingers lingered for a bit, thrusting in shallow then deep screws, as if Thorin tried to memorise him from within, before slipping out. Bilbo whimpered. He heard the dwarf chuckle. "Patience, burglar."

Bereft of body contact, the hobbit shivered, but would not move. Thorin returned, boots lining up behind him. The run of hands over his arms and shoulders and chest and plump belly sent fire into the hobbit's blood and his body started singing anew. There was heat surrounding Thorin always and tonight it had spilled onto Bilbo and it threatened to leave behind a pile of cinders unless…

The clank of Thorin's belt sounded loud, bouncing off the stone walls. Cold metal bit into Bilbo's back. Would the bruises be there tomorrow, he asked himself, reminder of tonight, brand of possession? He'd like that, he thought. Thorin would, too. Thorin's sense of ownership did not limit itself to the Lonely Mountain or the Arkenstone.

Hot skin replaced the coolness, hard and slick. With what, Bilbo wondered, what had Thorin used. He tried to turn around, but Thorin's shoulders bore down on him, trapping him against the rock. A slight juniper-y smell sorted out the mystery. Planned, then, Thorin had prepared for tonight and the mere realisation made Bilbo blush. More oil dripped at the small of his back and Thorin's fingers returned, smearing it up and down between his cheeks, working it inside him with long strokes that matched the keening sounds in the hobbit's chest. 

When Thorin slipped inside, one strong hand fanned over Bilbo's throat, the other wrapped tightly around the hobbit's cock, those sounds morphed into begging sobs. With the stretch of his body came the delicious burn of fullness, a pleasure so delightfully tinged with pain, it made his eyes water. If the blood hadn't pumped so loudly in his ears, Bilbo would have heard the echo of his rapture from Thorin's mouth. As it were, dwarfed by Thorin's stature, battered by his thrusts, the hobbit barely grasped enough clarity to push back onto Thorin's cock and let his body be carried away by lust.

With Thorin's fingers curled around his cock, Bilbo wouldn't last. He just hoped Thorin would ask to have him again, and again, and again, until his body didn't cry out for Thorin's attention at the simplest touch. And maybe the king would ask, before soon, because it was Thorin's turn to empty himself, with deep and agonizingly slow jerks and twitches, still holding Bilbo up against the rock wall, one hand still wrapped around his throat.

Sweat cooled on Bilbo's skin. He eyed his coat, forgotten on the floor, kicked aside before their bodies coupled and the fire between them demanded stoking. Talking to Thorin could wait till the morrow.


End file.
